


The Disappearance of Andrea Sachs

by redheadgrrl1960



Category: The Devil Wears Prada (2006)
Genre: Angst, Drama, F/F, Fear, Romance, Suspense
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-26
Updated: 2016-08-24
Packaged: 2018-07-18 08:34:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 14,972
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7307842
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redheadgrrl1960/pseuds/redheadgrrl1960
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Andy doesn't return from running errands and don't answer her phone no matter who tries to ring her, the staff at Runway Magazine knows something is wrong. As the search goes on, Miranda has to confront the secret feelings she has for her second assistant as she fears they'll find Andrea too late.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Time for yet another MirAndy story - this one is definitely darker, but hopefully the drama/suspense/romance will be to your liking! I am rereading older fanfiction in this realm to charge my author-batteries for my next novel, which also is a romance/suspense as a matter of fact. A newish genre for me, so that will be fun. :)  
> Some shameless self-promo now! My current novel, "A Reluctant Enterprise" is available at all the usual book vendors online and at Bold Strokes Books web site as well. In August, my novella "Piece of Cake--The Wedding" will be available in eBook formats. :)  
> OK, OK, I'll shut up now and let you get on with the story. Here's the first part of however many it takes. (And no, I haven't forgotten my unfinished stories, I promise. LOL)
> 
> Gun

Afterward, Miranda would find it remarkable how quickly she and Emily realized something must have happened to Andrea. The first sign was easy to ignore. The streets around Elias-Clarke were in constant gridlock due to some major repairs going on. Miranda had to start half an hour earlier from the townhouse every morning to reach Runway on time. When Andrea wasn’t back from her errands at Donna Karan and Hermes, everyone assumed the towncar was caught in traffic.

At 10.30 am, when the run-through was only ten minutes away, Miranda ordered Emily, her first assistant, to call Andrea. When there was no answer, which Emily said with a trembling voice, Miranda hissed, “Then call the towncar. Put it on speaker.”

Emily blanched but dialed again. The towncar driver clearly wasn’t the usual chauffeur as he answered with an indifferent “T’sup?”

“Where are you?” Emily snarled. “You’re more than forty minutes late back at Elias-Clarke!”

“Hey, don’t have a cow,” the voice of a young man said, his voice lazy and unimpressed. “I’m still waiting for that chick. She ran off to some store more than an hour ago and I don’t know what’s wrong with you women and shopping—“

“What?” Miranda stood and rounded her desk. “Andrea is not in the car?” She had no idea why, but her heart was suddenly racing.

“As I said, lady, I’m still waiting. I don’t care. I get paid either way.” The young man chuckled.

“If you still have a job, which I doubt when I report your deplorable manners to your employer.” Miranda placed a hand on the door frame to steady herself. Where could Andrea have gone to? She had done these particular runs so many times now; she usually was back within twenty minutes. Even with the traffic, forty minutes was plenty. “Where are you parked?”

“Two blocks from where the chick was going. What was it? Donna something,” the driver said. “Traffic’s crazy here.”

Two blocks? Miranda’s stomach did a slow somersault. That didn’t make sense. If Andrea had run into trouble at Donna Karan, if the skirts and tops weren’t ready, she would have called Emily to warn Miranda before the run-through. For her to go off the grid and not answer her phone—it wasn’t like her. At all.

“Stay where you are until we call you.” Emily hung up the phone and dialed yet another number. She put it on speaker again.

“Donna Karan, Ms. Fellini’s office,” yet another young man answered, but this one with impeccable politeness.

“Hello. I’m calling for Miranda Priestly,” Emily began, but was forestalled by the man’s gushing voice.

“Oh, my God. We’ve been sitting here on pins and needles waiting for Andy. She’s never late and we know how important it was for Runway to get the garments in time. We were just going to call you.”

Miranda frowned. “This is Miranda Priestly. Are you certain Andrea hasn’t come into the store today?”

“M-Miranda Prie—Oh. Wow. I mean. Yes, I’m certain. My desk is just inside the door and she has to pass it to reach Ms. Fellini and the clothes racks in the back. Is…I mean, has something happened?” He sounded truly concerned.

Miranda didn’t answer, but Emily regained the initiative. “We don’t know. As you say, Andy is prompt and dependable. We’ll send someone else for the clothes. Please let us know if she shows up. We’ll make further inquiries in the meantime.”

“What’s up?” Nigel strode into the outer office area with Serena, Paul, and Jocelyn. “You all look like someone stole The Book.”

“We can’t find Andy,” Emily said as she hung up the phone, her eyes huge. “She’s very late and she’s not answering her phone. Her driver saw her wake toward Donna Karan, but the assistant there hasn’t seen her and she hasn’t picked up the clothes.” Gripping her pencil hard, Emily stared at her hand when it snapped in two.

“That’s not like Six,” Nigel agreed, his sorrowful eyes even more concerned. “She’s so dedicated, so eager to be the perfect assistant, she drives me nuts.” He walked up to Miranda who still hadn’t found her voice. Or at least, she wasn’t sure she could trust it to be steady enough to speak without alerting everyone to her inner turmoil.

“All right,” Emily said and pointed at Andrea’s empty desk. “Serena. Call the police and ask if they know anything. I’m calling the main emergency rooms in Manhattan.”

“What—what about her studio apartment?” Jocelyn said timidly. “Does she have a landline we can try?”

“No. Just her private cell phone, which I’ve tried along with the work phone—a multitude of times.” Emily was already dialing and turned her chair to the side as she pulled up a notepad.

Miranda stood silent as the young women she employed took charge. Part of her wanted to maintain they were all overreacting. Of course they were. Who in their right mind asked the police for information when a person had been missing for, she checked her watch, fifty-five minutes? It was ridiculous. Then again, she couldn’t disregard her gut reaction. For Andrea to be an hour late equaled anybody else being a _day_ late.

After ten minutes, when Miranda had gone back to her desk and browsed the local news for anything that might explain what was going on, Serena poked her head in. “The police have no reports of anything happening in that neighborhood, nor have they any information regarding a young woman fitting Andy’s description or with her name. Nothing.”

“I suppose that is good news.” Miranda curled her hands into fists. “Try any of her friends that you know of. Even that young man she used to live with.”

“All right. They’re on her phone book on her computer as far as I know. I think Emily has her passw—“ Serena closed her mouth around the last word. “On it, Miranda.”

A minute later, Emily appeared, looking pale. “No luck, if you can call it that, at any of the ERs. God. I even asked if they have any Jane Does that look like her. They didn’t.”

Miranda could hardly breathe. Why was she completely panicky? Of course Andrea was going to show up—any minute now. She could picture the curvy young woman tearing through the glass doors, hangers with clothes flapping behind her. No doubt, she would balance several trays of Starbuck coffee for everybody and insist on delivering it with a face-splitting smile.

Standing up, Miranda turn her back to the outer office and remained still with her arms wrapped around her waist. The busy street below was too far away for her to be able to identify which brunette down there could be Andrea.

“Miranda?” Nigel came up to her and placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. He rarely touched her, despite their long friendship.

“What?” she whispered.

“I can tell this is hard on you.” Nigel spoke quietly, glancing over his shoulder. “It might not be obvious to anyone else, but you’ve taken a greater interest in Six than you’ve done with any of your other assistants.”

“You presume to understand too much,” Miranda said coolly. “I am naturally concerned for an employee that I have high hopes for. Andrea has impressed me more than most, considering how deplorable she looked when she started out here. What is it now? Ten months ago?”

“Almost to the day in fact,” Nigel said casually. “And I agree. She’s going to go far.”

All Miranda wanted was for Andrea to show up. For her to not call in, from _any_ phone, was unheard of. The girl was just too caring and conscientious. More than once had Andrea performed impossible tasks and done so with that special light in her eyes shining when Miranda had to concede her brilliance.

“All right.” Serena entered Miranda’s office and read from her pad. “Andy’s friend Lily was rather standoffish and she hasn’t heard from Andy in months. Doug, I mean Douglas,” she added with a quick glance at Miranda, “is usually in contact with her several times a week, sometimes daily, but not today. He had texted her forty-five minutes ago and he also tried texting her while we talked. She usually answers within half an hour but not today. Andy’s former boyfriend, Nate, hasn’t talked to her since just after she got home from Paris Fashion Week. He is in a new relationship with some French woman, but he sounded worried when I told him about her silence.” Serena hesitated. “I haven’t checked in with her parents—“

“And you shouldn’t do that either. Not yet.” Miranda tried to reel her emotions in and by doing that; she hoped she did the same with the worry for the rest of them.”

“So what do we do now?” Nigel asked cautiously. “How long do we wait until we pull all the stops?”

“And by that, I assume, you mean we report her missing?” Miranda shivered at the idea. Once they decided to do that, she was…she was uncertain how she might feel. Right now it was bad enough. Her chest constricted as if someone had fused her ribs. In the pit of her stomach, a lump of ice and gravel shifted back and forth even if she tried to remain as unflappable as she usually was.

“Is there any way to see if her cell is on?” Emily asked, literally wringing her hands. “Like you would do if it was stolen?”

“Good idea. Do we need someone from tech-support?” Nigel asked.

“Nah. I can do it. Brilliant idea, Em,” Serena said and pulled her phone out. “Remember we all got those fitness bracelets? We hooked them up to a site that saves our movements so we could compete with each other. You know, who walked or ran the most steps, who rode around town on errands and so on. As we all approved each other as friends on the app, we can also track each other’s routes when the app is active.”

Miranda stared at Serena. “Who among you were in on this app?”

Serena blinked. “Andy, Emily, Jocelyn, and I. And…and…”

“Who else?” Miranda looked at them all pointedly. What was going on that made Serena go pale? She was the one among the young women who was the least afraid of Miranda.

“The twins persuaded Andy to friend them on the fitness site.” Serena spoke quietly. “I thought you knew, Miranda. She made them part of our closed group.”

“My girls? They’re on some online app that tracks their movements?” Her ire raging now, Miranda stepped closer to the others. “Why am I only hearing about this now?”

“Andy said they had asked your permission.” Standing her ground, Serena clutched her cell phone. “And she made them promise only to turn it on while they had gym class at Daltons.”

“I will talk to the twins.” Miranda, a master at compartmenting, tucked the information away for now. “So, is her phone on? Can you track her?”

“Let me see. You try too, Em…Jocelyn.” Tapping with frenzy at her phone, Serena stared at the screen. “What the…?”

“That’s impossible.” Emily glanced up from her cell at Serena and then simply handed her phone to Miranda. “It says she’s moving very fast. On Interstate 78, southbound from Newark.”

Miranda stared at the moving dot. “She’s in a car. Or her phone is. Someone might have— _must have_ —stolen her phone.” She swallowed hard. Why hadn’t Andrea contacted them if someone stole her purse…or…Miranda’s brain stalled. “This does it. We contact the police. Now. Get me Captain Elisabeth North at the 18th precinct.”

“Yes, Miranda,” Emily said quickly and hurried back to her desk. Miranda saw her cast an unreadable glance at Andrea’s empty one. Clearly her assistants got along better these days. Nobody had been more relieved than her when the Emily finally warmed up to Andrea and stopped hissing and snarling at her. Not that she truly cared if the girls were friends or not, but she had found Emily’s animosity tiring.

“I have Captain North,” Emily called out.

Gripping the phone with ice cold fingers, Miranda pulled herself together. “Captain North? Miranda Priestly here. I’d like to report a missing person. Possibly an ab-abduction.” Miranda closed her eyes hard for a moment.

There was a stunned silence and then the stern police captain responded calmly. “Give me the initial information and I’ll transfer your report—“

“No. No. I want you to handle it. This concerns my second assistant and we have reason to believe that she’s become victim of a crime about less than an hour ago. While we debate the correct command structure, the few leads we have of her whereabouts become less useful.”

“Then by all means,” Captain North said. “Give me the short version. I’m going to send uniforms to…Elias-Clarke?”

“Yes.” Miranda told the captain what they knew so far. At first, much like the Runway staff, Elisabeth North didn’t seem too concerned, but her voice changed when Miranda told her about the cell phone tracking.

“Send me a photo of Andrea Sachs. I’ll have it sent to all the black-and-whites in Manhattan and Newark. See if your assistant can do a screen capture of the tracking. The officers enroute will be joined by detectives and they will take more detailed notes. Right now I need to know what she’s wearing, her height, etc.”

That was no problem. Miranda only had to close her eyes and she saw every detail of Andrea and her current outfit. She listed them and when she finally hung up, she saw Nigel standing by the door, his eyes full of compassion.

 

XXXX

 

It was dark and a foul smell made her gag. Andy blinked into the darkness, trying to get her eyes to acclimatize to it, but it really was pitch black. Whimpering, she tried to move, but something weighed her down. Something hard and heavy, wrapped in…plastic?

“Hello?” Andy tried to call out, but the heavy weight on top of her constricted her breathing and all she managed was a wheezing sound that ended in a coughing fit. “Please,” she said huskily. “Anybody? Hello?”

She strained her ears and thought she could hear muffled sounds of traffic, but she wasn’t sure. Her head hurt and her back too. One arm was pinned against her abdomen by the weight on top of her. The other, the left, was free and she tried to move it around. She touched something cold and rough and yanked her hand back. Where was she? Why couldn’t she remember anything? How long had she been here?

Was anyone looking for her?

_________________________

To be continued in part 2

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

 

Miranda sat motionless at her desk. She didn’t even bother pretending to work on her computer. Nobody dared question her lack of movement anyway. Emily and Serena scurried around, carrying out their assignments, but Miranda could tell they had difficulties focus. Who could blame them? Their friend and colleague was missing and they feared the worst. Everyone did, but Miranda refused to give in to it. Andrea could not be gone forever. It was impossible. If she was, Miranda confessed to herself that neither she nor the entire office floor would ever be the same again. Having only worked at Runway for ten months, Andrea Sachs had put her easily distinguishable stamp on them all.

What was it about this young woman that made it impossible to remain indifferent to her? Miranda had taken a chance on hiring girl who was as far from the usual clackers as could possibly be. She wore deplorable clothes those first weeks. Lumpy, ugly, polyester knitwear. Skirts that would have fit someone’s older aunt in the seventies. And that horrible corduroy jacket blazer…Miranda shuddered. Then one day when Miranda returned to work after a day off, Andrea had transformed—with the help of Nigel, one of her biggest fans.

It was as if Miranda could finally see Andrea when she discarded her ugly clothes like a butterfly crawls out of its cocoon. Miranda realized it may appear shallow that she required a person to dress with taste and style in order to properly appreciate them for who they were. Perhaps she was shallow that way. And spoiled. Now when Andrea dressed like a clacker the huge surprise was that she still was as far from clacker-esque as before regarding her personality. Her smile was a broad as when she dressed badly. Her laughter held the same plebeian cackling tone. That said, Miranda now saw what Andrea had been hiding—a sparkling intelligence, a knack for adaptability, and a genuine kindness.

And who was she kidding? The girl was sensual with an innate sexuality that hit Miranda l full force. Andrea moved differently when in heels. Earlier, she had stomped around in her flat, bulky shoes, but as soon as she donned her first pair of pumps, her hips swayed and she straightened up and squared her shoulders.

With each assignment, Andrea grew before Miranda’s eyes, until she had surpassed Emily by far. Emily was still quite capable, but Andrea seemed to be able to read Miranda’s mind. Anticipating what Miranda wanted and providing it before she asked, Andrea streamlined Miranda’s workflow seamlessly. This was not why Miranda’s stomach was in a tight, ice-cold knot. She wasn’t going to decipher the motivation for her violent physical reaction to the situation, mainly because she _refused_ to fully accept there was a situation in the first place. Still, part of her insisted Nigel was right. Her feelings for Andrea were complicated, but he was correct. She felt differently about Andrea because Andrea was different.

“Miranda? Detective Gilmore is here to see you.” Emily stood in the doorway, her face pale and her hair a little mussed.

“Very well.” Miranda stood as a tall, lanky woman entered her office.

“I’m Detective Alicia Gilmore,” the woman said, extending a hand. “I’ve come to take your statement regarding Andrea Sachs disappearance.”

“Miranda Priestly. Have a seat, Detective,” Miranda said after shaking the proffered hand.

Gilmore sat down and pulled out a pen and notepad. She flipped through it and folded it open. “I’m going to let you tell me about your morning when it comes to interacting with Andrea.”

Miranda nodded and described how she had gotten in just on time and found Andrea waiting by the elevator with her latte as usual. They spoke briefly and then Andrea made a list of assignments, returned some phone calls for Miranda, and then headed out to do her errands.

“Was she in a good mood?”

“As far as I can tell, yes,” Miranda said. “Focused, energetic. As always.”

“And she was going to,” Gilmore consulted her notes, “Donna Karan and Hermes? Which did she go to first?”

“Hermes confirmed she was in and out of there in less than two minutes at 10.10 am. Donna Karan’s office said she never showed up.” Miranda furtively pressed a cold hand against her midsection. “She should have been back here at 10.25 am at the latest, even considering the nightmare traffic situation around here.”

“Has Andrea every stayed away like this before?”

Her ire growing, Miranda pursed her lips. “Let me get this across, once and for all. Andrea is not staying away, nor has she ever skipped any of her duties while working for me. She is a first class assistant—and loyal…to a fault. This is not any ordinary airhead secretary we’re talking about. This is someone who is on a clearly lit path to a successful profession. No matter what you think you must ask as part of your routine, if you doubt the severity of Andrea’s disappearance, you’re wasting both our time. Most of all, you’re wasting time Andrea doesn’t have.”

Gilmore looked pensive, but not offended. “Fair enough. I’ve sent uniforms to canvas the surrounding blocks of where her driver saw her last. As for her phone, we’re tracking it going south on I-78. We expect to stop the car in question any moment now.”

Miranda gasped and felt oxygen leave her office. She drew another breath and curled and uncurled her toes repeatedly inside her Louboutins. “I expect to be kept fully informed.”

Gilford developed an annoyed wrinkle between her eyebrows. “We’re going to be very busy, Ms. Priestly—“

“If it’s too much of a nuisance for you, Detective, I’m sure Captain North explained to you how this will be handled—and who you need to inform.” Miranda saw Gilmore visibly flinch at the low, barely audible threat in her voice.

“Fine. Fine.” Sighing, Gilmore rose. “I’m going to talk to Andrea’s colleagues now.”

Miranda stood as well and noted absentmindedly that Detective Gilmore didn’t extend her hand to say goodbye, but couldn’t care less. She expected Gilmore to fall in line. Miranda needed to know every single new development in their efforts to locate Andrea.

As Gilmore left her office, Miranda rounded her desk and closed the door. When there was no risk of any prying eyes to peer inside, she leaned sideways against it, drawing several raw, painful breaths. Andrea had to be alive and well. With each passing second, it got harder and harder to keep her equilibrium. She felt dizzy every time she closed her eyes for more than two seconds. Her tear ducts hurt from keeping tears of frustration at bay.

A new knock on the door made Miranda flinch. “Yes, enter.” Miranda leaned at her desk, the glass top cutting into her left hip.

Detective Gilmore poked her head in. “Ms. Priestly. A Jersey black and white has stopped the suspected car we're monitoring. They were in pursuit for about fifteen minutes and now they have it surrounded. I’m going to go to the location—“

Miranda stood and walked past the detective. “Emily. Coat. Bag. You’re with me.”

Emily scurried over to the closet and then returned with her things. “Here you go.”

“No, no, no. No civilians.” Gilmore glowered at Miranda.

“I’m not going with you.” Miranda didn’t explain, but motioned for Emily and Serena to join her. “Jocelyn. Man the phones.”

“WH—yes, Miranda.” Jocelyn paled considerably and took Emily’s chair.

“Just keep detailed notes of who’s calling,” Emily murmured as she pulled on an orange leather jacket. “I’ll deal with everything later.”

“Thanks, Em.”

Miranda was already half out the door, but the way her staff rallied around her and each other didn’t go unnoticed. She noticed Gilmore and the two officers in uniform she brought with her take the elevator to the right. “You both have your cell phones, right?” Miranda said as she stepped inside the left elevator, motioning with her chin for them to join her.

Emily gaped but nodded as she stood next to Miranda. Serena calmly stepped onto the elevator and joined Emily, pulling out her phone.

“I assume you want to know where they found the car on I-78.” Serena didn’t wait for an answer, but tapped at the large screen of her phone. “Here. Seems like it’s on a ramp perhaps?” She pointed at the phone while turning it to Miranda. “Are we driving there?”

“No. We’re not driving.” Miranda pressed the button to the rooftop of the Elias-Clarke building and then raised her phone to her ear. “Tell John Miranda Priestly has an emergency.”

Emily whipped her head toward Serena, her eyes wide. “Bloody hell.”

Serena smiled wryly. “ _Perfeito!_ The company helicopter.”

 

XXXXX

 

Her arm that was pinned beneath the heavy weight and her abdomen was numb now. In a way it was a blessing, but it also worried Andy as she realized in her dazed state that it couldn’t possibly be a good thing.

“Help!” she tried again and attempted to bang at the wall with her free hand. The sound barely registered even in the room where she was, which suggested it hardly was audible on the outside.

What was this place? Cold, smelly to a point where she gagged, and completely dark. She had no idea how long she’d been unconscious or how she ended up here. What had she been doing just before?

An image floated to the surface in her mind and she clung to it. A woman. White hair, amazing blue eyes, pink mouth and a velvety voice that—Miranda. “Miranda,” Andy whimpered. What if something had happened to her? Had they been together when this, whatever this was, happened? Had Miranda and she been in the towncar with Roy…and perhaps had an accident? That didn’t make sense. Why would Andy be here, in this awful room that stank so badly?

She thought of her parents. Doug. Emily. Serena. And Nigel. Where were they? Did they know she was in trouble? Or did everyone assume she was somewhere perfectly fine? Panic erupted and she thrashed under the heavy weight. “No, no, no…please…somebody help me. I’m here. Please help me!”

Realizing she was only hurting herself, Andy stopped moving and wept silently. She wanted to see Miranda’s face…just one more time. She loved her boss. Having always assumed nothing would ever come of it, Andy made a vow right then and there. If she survived this, if someone found her and she was able to see Miranda one last time, Andy would her she loved her and always would. Clinging to that thought, she kept pounding as hard as she could against the wall. Even her legs were numb now. What if it was too late?

**______________________________________________**

**Continued in Part 3**


	3. Chapter 3

The helicopter landed in a park area just south of where the police had surrounded the car. Emily had used her cell phone app and arranged for an uber to fetch them. Miranda knew very little about the app in question, but as long as Emily got them a car that wasn't a filthy cab, that was all right.

Now they rode the car toward the area where Serena's phone indicated the presence of Andrea's cell phone. As they approached it wasn't hard to find as black-and-whites with the pulsating lights made it obvious. Emily asked the driver to pull over next to one of the police cars and they all stepped out.

"Hey, ladies. You can't be here." One of the officers, dressed in riot gear and holding a rifle, motioned at them to go back. Miranda didn't care.

"I'm Miranda Priestly and you are searching for my assistant Andrea Sachs. You have triangulated her phone signal to that vehicle, right?" She pointed at a small Honda at a gas station fifty yards from where they stood.

"Any information to the public has to come through our press secretary. Or my boss. Certainly not me." The officer, a ginger haired young man with freckles who looked like he was still in high school, shook his head emphatically.

"And where, pray tell, can we find your superior officer?"

"There." He pointed toward a plain police care two cars from them. Next to it, Miranda saw a tall, blond woman who calmly regarded the scene. "Her name is Lieutenant Hansen."

Not bothering with any niceties, Miranda strode toward the young man's boss. "Lieutenant Hansen."

The woman turned her head and then frowned. "I know who you are. How did you get here so fast? Detective Gilmore informed me you may show up. As you're here, you can fill in some blanks for me."

Taken aback, but too seasoned to show it, Miranda merely nodded. "Anything to help retrieve Andrea."

Looking mildly surprised, Lieutenant Hansen spoke quickly to the man next to her who nodded and raised a megaphone to his mouth.

"You, sir, in the blue Honda behind pump eight. This is the Newark Police Department. We have surrounded your vehicle and there's nowhere for you to go. Come out of the car with your hands on your head and then kneel."

There was no movement. Miranda held her purse so tight, it hurt her fingertips. "Are there any signs Andrea is in the car?" she asked Lieutenant Hansen with stiff lips.

"None, so far. We've been here for about fifteen minutes and the FBI is on the way."

"FBI?" Emily gasped. "What for?"

"The individual in the car, we believe it's a man, has clearly crossed the state border between New York and New Jersey. That makes potential kidnapping a federal offence."

Kidnapping. Miranda's vision grew fuzzy at the outer edges. Taking a deep breath, she fumbled for something to hold on to and found Nigel's hand. He squeezed her encouragingly and that was all she needed to ground her. Straightening, she kept her gaze locked on the blue Honda. Was Andrea in it? Perhaps tied up and terrified in the backseat? If this was the case she would kill whoever was responsible with her own bare hands. She would choke the life out of them and watch with pleasure as they—

"That's it," she heard the male policeman say via the megaphone. "Now kneel and don't make a move. We won't hesitate to fire upon you if we think you're reaching for a weapon or about to hurt someone."

"Look!" Emily pointed with a trembling finger at the figure exiting the Honda through the driver's door. Thin and dressed in baggy jeans and a ratty t-shirt, he staggered to the side and fell to his knees.

"I'm fucking innocent, man!" The suspect shouted with a sandpapery voice. "I haven't done anything."

"Stay down," the male policeman cautioned as armed police officers neared the Honda and aimed their rifles and guns at him. "Remain calm and cross your ankles."

The man kept his hands on his head and did as he was told. It was such an automatic thing, it made Miranda think this man had been in trouble with the police before.

"They have to search the car immediately," Miranda said, whipping her head around to glare at Hansen who only nodded.

"First they secure the suspect and then they'll search the car. We do this by the book."

"Oh, for heaven's sake," Miranda muttered, her stomach in knots. She wanted to run over there and tear the doors open…and God forbid, open the trunk. The idea of Andrea being tossed in a dirty old trunk nauseated her.

"We're entering the car now," a crackling voice said through Hansen's radio. "Nobody else here. Lots of garbage. And, oh yes, cocaine and what I think is meth. We have him on that if nothing else."

"The trunk?" Hansen asked, sounding tense.

Miranda clenched her fists. "Oh, God."

"Please," Serena whispered and wrapped an arm around Emily's waist. "Meu Deus…"

A female officer popped the trunk open and two other police officers peered in, weapons still drawn. "It's empty, except for what looks like stolen goods and a gym bag. Several cell phones. One of them has to be Andrea Sachs's."

Miranda gave a muted sob. Just one, but it was enough for Nigel to pull her into his arms. "Hey. She's not dead in his trunk. Now they can interrogate him and find out more facts."

"And in the meantime…while they're interrogating that lowlife, Andrea is suffering alone and in danger somewhere. How…what the hell can we do? We… _I_ need to do something!" She hissed the words against his shoulder and clung to the fabric in his jacket.

"We should start from scratch." Serena, still holding onto Emily who was chalk-white, said, her brow furrowed as if her mind was already miles ahead of everyone else's. "We need to talk to the driver of the towncar, and the people at Donna Karan's. I'm sure the police are doing that as well, but they _know_ us there. Most of all, they know Andy. I think Miranda's presence will make them shape up and perhaps remember something they didn't earlier."

Miranda grabbed after the straw as if her life depended on it. Anything. Anything at all rather than returning to the office and have to wait for scraps of information from the police.

"Fine." Miranda squared her shoulders. "Emily. Let the pilot know we're returning to Elias-Clark. Call Roy and have him bring the car around. We're going to Donna Karan's."

"Excellent." Nigel squeezed her arm gently and she sent him a quick glance of gratitude. She was pretty sure she didn't always deserve his loyalty, but she was thankful for it nonetheless.

As they entered the waiting uber and returned to the helicopter, she envisioned Andrea being all right. She had to be. If she wasn't…Miranda's stomach clenched and her lungs caved in. No. She couldn't go there. Andrea was alive and they were going to find her.

XXX

Andy's teeth cluttered and she had slammed her fist into the metal wall so many times, she could feel blood running along her arm when she raised it. This didn't stop her. She had to keep making noise. What if nobody heard her? What if she was left here to die of thirst?

Thirst. Andy licked her dry lips. How long had she been here? She had no idea. If she only could remember what happened. She had vague memories of running out of Elias-Clark to a towncar, but that was it. Was she still in the car? Had they crashed? No. That didn't make sense.

The heavy weight on top of her wouldn't budge. It made it difficult to breathe and she felt faint as she forced the foul smelling air into her lungs.

"Miranda," she whispered like a mantra. "Miranda. Miranda."

______________________________________________

**Continued in part 4**


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this took longer than planned - came down with something and am just getting better. I hope you like the newest part of "The Disappearance of Andrea Sachs". :-)

Miranda stood on the busy street outside Donna Karan's store and offices. She didn't want to have DK's staff gush over her in her capacity as editor-in-chief of _Runway_ , but let Emily and Serena go inside to talk to them. She had given them express permission to hold her name over everyone inside as a sharpened sword. If this wouldn't make them remember everything from earlier in the day, nothing would.

She stood ramrod straight by the town car, watching her driver Roy, who'd reported in to the offices as soon as he heard about Andrea, and Nigel talk emphatically a few yards away. Then Nigel came toward her, his steps rapid.

"Miranda. Roy and I have a couple of ideas. He's going to look up the young man who was taking Andy to DKNY and have a chat with him, you know, sort of a collegial exchange. The guy's apparently quite torn up by Andy going missing and hasn't left his post further up the street."

"Really." Actually Miranda was surprised. She had written off the young driver as completely incompetent and with no work ethic whatsoever. "And the other idea?" She actually tried to get the sarcasm out of her voice as she did realize Nigel was only trying to help.

"Do you have a new photo, a headshot, of Andy in your phone? I seem to remember seeing one from last week when you took photos of her with the twins and…" Nigel cleared his voice. "I mean, the ones I have are pretty dated. Mainly from when I helped her change image a tad."

A tad? Nigel had dug out the lovely young woman hiding under layers of ill-kept hair, frumpy clothes and non-existent sense of style. "Yes. I believe so." Frustrated that her hands shook so badly, Nigel had to take her phone and transfer the images to his. She wasn't completely inept when it came to technology, but she still felt he robbed her of her precious photos even if she knew full well they were only copied from her cell phone to his.

Nigel took off down the street, stopping people left and right, showing Andrea's photo. As far as Miranda could see, they all shook their head and kept walking. A few younger people took longer looks at the photo and seemed to hesitate, but eventually they also shook their head and left Nigel standing there, his shoulders slumped.

Emily and Serena returned, having talked with every single staff member and also the customers that were in the store. "I'm so sorry, Miranda. None of them have seen Andy today. They're heartbroken as they seem to genuinely care about her. Even Ms. Fellini came out to talk to us in person." Serena sighed. "Emily says Ms. Fellini is rather intimidating normally, but today…" Serena's voice wobbled.

"Today, Ms. Fellini seemed quite taken," Emily filled in. "Which says a lot."

It did. And to know that Maria Fellini had noticed Andrea's worth was incredible as well as somewhat disconcerting. Miranda gave herself a mental smack over the back of her head. Was she actually giving in to something as plebeian as jealousy just because another woman in power recognized how brilliant and lovely Andrea was? Ridiculous. She needed to get a grip of her emotions that seemed to be in complete flux.

"Miranda? This is Nathan Flint." Roy suddenly showed up at Miranda's left, motioning to a slightly out of breath young man. She eyed him curiously. He was tall, lanky and with potential to become a model. A red shock of hair and slightly freckled complexion rendered him a personal and unique look, compared to men his age. He wore gabardine pants and a white shirt, which was irreverently hanging untucked. A thin red tie with yellow striped was another sign that he had some sort of style. All this went through Miranda's head in two seconds.

"And pray tell, who is Nathan Flint?" Miranda eyed the young man up and down, a well-proven method to take people down a notch or two. Not this young man, however.

"I'm the chick's…Andy's…driver, Ms. Priestly."

"You're…you're that annoying son-of-a—"

"Hey. No name calling, ma'am. At first I waited for hours while the police and you guys looked for her, but I grew tired of doing nothing. I didn't know this chick, but she was nice to me, which isn't always the case." Nathan looked pointedly at Miranda. "So I began mapping the ways she could have gone as she never reached the store she was going to. The police have been around too, but they haven't gone into _all_ the little alleys and behind stores."

"Alleys?" Miranda took a step closer and looked up at the young man. "What alleys?"

"There are four long ones and two shorter ones between the towncar and the store. I tried to tell the cops this, but they have their own way of doing stuff. Apparently."

Miranda's mind whirled. Could it be true that nobody had searched these alleys? She whipped out her phone and pressed the speed dial for Elisabeth North. As always she found it a waste of time to start with niceties. "Are your officers going to comb through the alleys around the Donna Karan store soon?"

"Miranda?" North cleared her throat. "We've done walk-throughs and haven't seen any evidence of Andrea Sachs ever having been there. Our working hypothesis is that they took her along in the car and, ehm, dropped her off before or after they left Manhattan."

Miranda's blood chilled to below freezing. She could actually feel it crystalize in her veins. "And just how thorough is a walk-through?"

"Thorough enough. The officers go through all the alleys, stores, interview anyone they come upon for what they might have observed. So far there's no evidence that Andrea Sachs are still in the area around DKNY. We're thinking of expanding our search area to yet another two block radius from the store."

"Thinking of it? I suggest you act rather than sit around contemplating how to save a young woman with her whole life head of her." Miranda could hear her own voice going icy. "If I suspect you're not on top of this at every waking moment, I will start making calls and you will find yourself facing a boundless obstacle in your career. One you may not recover from."

"Ms. Priestly—"

"That's all." Miranda hung up, disgusted with how casually the police seemed to handle Andrea's case. She was just about to return to the car when her phone rang. Glancing at the screen, she saw it was an unknown number. Her first reaction was to ignore it, but as there was a tiny hope this might have something to do with Andrea, she pressed the green receiver symbol.

"Miranda Priestly."

"Oh. Ms. Priestly. Hello. I—I'm sorry to bother you, but—" A woman spoke with a tremulous voice, sounding distraught and nervous at the same time.

"Yes? Who is this?" Miranda demanded.

"I apologize. I'm Louise Sachs, Andy's mother. My husband Richard is standing here beside me and we have you on speaker phone. We just got off the phone with the police. A Detective Gilmore, I believe."

Miranda's knees nearly gave in. Andrea's parents. She had thought of them early on and deemed it too soon to contact them until they knew more of what was going on. "My apologies, Mrs. Sachs—"

"Please. Call me Louise." Louise sounded out of breath.

"Louise. Then call me Miranda. When did the police get in touch with you?" Miranda stalled, not sure what she would do if Andrea's mother broke down over the phone.

"About an hour ago. We have been glued to the phone and when Detective Gilmore called us, finally, and still had no update other than that Andy wasn't in…wasn't in the ca-ar…" Here Louise broke into barely audible sobs.

"Miranda. Richard here." Richard Sachs sounded stern, but Miranda could hear the anguish behind his harsh voice. "We got the impression that you've take a very proactive role in finding our daughter. Can you tell us anything, anything at all, that the police aren't sharing with us?" His voice softened marginally toward the end of the last sentence.

"My immediate staff, which also is close friends to Andrea, is at the site of her disappearance now. Our reasoning for meddling, which I'm sure the police think we're doing, is that we believe we know Andrea better than anyone else in New York. Since you and Louise live so far away, it is vital that we step in and make sure to keep the police on their toes."

"Dear God." Richard signed and Miranda could hear him murmuring comforting words to his wife. "What are doing, exactly?"

"The police assure me they've done a run-through of the closest blocks here, but it hasn't been very long and I doubt they've done more than a rudimentary search. I don't think we're going to leave here until we've search everywhere we can think of."

"The police said they found her phone and wallet in the car they chased down. Was she robbed, do you think?" Richard sounded uncertain. "If that's the case, there's a good chance she's still a-alive…"

Miranda's stomach clenched. "Richard. Louise. Don't give up hope now. Until we know for sure, Andrea is alive and she's waiting for us to find her. To help her. Let me arrange for your journey here—"

"Thank you, Miranda, but we've already book airline tickets. We're on our way out the door as we speak." Louise was back and she sounded more collected.

"All right. Hold for a moment, please." Miranda covered the microphone on her cell with her thumb and turned to Emily, who had been listening, her eyes wide and red at the rims. "Emily. Please make note of the Sachs's travel arrangement and upgrade them when possible."

"Of course, Miranda." Emily took the cell phone after Miranda said goodbye to Andrea's parents.

"Hey, Ms. What's-your-name? Runway lady?" a voice called out from further down the street. Nathan Flint, the young irreverent driver came running, waving at her.

_Runway lady?_ That was a first. "Call me Miranda, Nathan."

"Sure thing. I found yet another passage that I doubt the cops know of as not even I saw them the first time around. Can I borrow the other two dudes to go search it? I think that would go faster—"

"Go ahead." Miranda signaled to Roy, Nigel and Douglas who were returning from the other direction. They came running and immediately followed Nathan toward the small alley. Miranda and the others hurried after them. As they approached the dark are winding in between the buildings, Miranda's heart sank. So dark, so dirty—and cold. This close to the street, surely someone would've heard or seen something if Andrea was attacked and robbed here? She forced back a sob. She needed to find Andrea and present her unharmed to her parents when they arrived. As a mother, she could barely imagine being in Louise and Richard's shoes. Her scattered thoughts chased each other through her brain and she had to focus hard not to panic. She had understood and accepted months ago that her feelings for Andrea was hardly maternal, and not even those of a mere employer. She had not even contemplated ever acknowledging or, God forbid, acting on them, but with Andrea missing, her heart was slowly fracturing, little by little. They had to find her alive. So many people cared for this young woman and the special light that glowed around Andrea would make Miranda's world a darker place if she was lost forever.

**XXXXX**

When had her entire world turn to pain? She waved her hand, somehow remembering she had to do something. Something important. Wave? No. Pound. Pound at the cold, scratchy metal wall. Still, even if she tried, she kept missing it. Or perhaps she had so little strength left as her head hurt so bad, she couldn't maneuver her arm. The other arm was dead. It wouldn't move no matter how she tried.

Where was she? She tried to breathe evenly and remember her name. At first she couldn't and it freaked her out enough for her to cry out, wail against the fate that had placed her here, wherever 'here' was. Wait. Andy. Andy Sachs. Second assistant at Runway. Oh. Oh! Miranda! She had to keep going and fight for Miranda. And mom and dad. Her friends. They were going to miss her. Perhaps even Miranda would miss her…

The weight above her appeared to grow heavier with each passing moment. Andy had stopped wondering what it was. She took fast, shallow breaths, trying to get the oxygen she needed. The foul smell had become less, or she had simply gotten used to it. Everything hurt from being immobilized and her bladder was about to explode. If she couldn't make her way out of this room, wherever she was, she was going to end up peeing in her La Perla lace briefs and soak through to her Calvin Klein skirt. Miranda would be furious of course.

Suddenly frantic, Andy cried out, a long wailing sound that pieced through her entire system. Why did nobody come to find her? She gave another cry, but not as loud. Then her bladder gave in and she felt warm pee drench her clothes.

**XXXXX**

Doug stopped, making Roy and Nathan walk into him. "Shh. What was that? Did you hear that?"

* * *

 

**Continued in part 5.**


	5. Chapter 5

Miranda came to a stop when she saw the three men standing in the beginning of the narrow alley. It was really more of a narrow courtyard than an alley, filled with dumpsters and debris. The smell was beyond foul. Miranda was about to demand an explanation why the men weren’t moving when she realized they were listening intently. She held her breath, but could only hear the pounding of her own heart at first.

“Bloody hell,” Emily whispered behind Miranda, which rendered her a furious glance from her boss.

“Quiet!” Miranda stood still, listening for any sound that wasn’t traffic, people talking, or the other usual Manhattan sounds.

A faint, mewling sound from further into the alley made them all jump.

“A kitten?” Nigel mouthed, but Miranda shook her head. This was no cat.

“She’s here,” Miranda said, not sure how she knew this for a fact. “And she’s alive.”

“ _Meu Deus_ ,” Sabrina said, moaning. “She’s in one of the dumpsters.” Her whimpered words ignited a flurry of activity.

“Emily, get the police here now.” Miranda vaguely registered Emily’s “Yes, Miranda,” before she moved further into the narrow space. Not even thinking of the dirty, disgusting dumpsters, she pushed the lid up with Nigel’s help and cast a glance into it. Her heart hammered so hard now, she could barely breathe. The dumpster was nearly empty with only a few half empty bags and cardboard boxes at the bottom.

“The next one,” Nigel gasped and pushed the lid open. It was full to the rim and he looked bemused at the heavy garbage bags. “She can’t be in here? Please?” He looked pleadingly at Miranda. “Surely…”

“Pull everything out.” Miranda stepped up on a wooden crate sitting next to the dumpster and began tearing at the first bag. She was stronger than she looked, thanks to Pilates and yoga. She moved the bag enough to the side to find yet another bag underneath. Across from her and Nigel, Doug, Serena and Nathan pulled at similar bags in another dumpster. Theirs weren’t quite as full.

Another whimpering, mewling sound reached them. It was louder. “It came from here. She’s in this one!” Miranda tore at the bag, breaking her nails but ignoring the pain. “Andrea! We’re here. Hold on.”

“Six. It’s Nigel. Everyone’s here looking for you, okay?” They pulled and tugged at the heavy bags and Miranda wondered what the hell were in them to be so heavy. If it was indeed Andrea beneath them all, was it the man who’d been in possession of her phone who put her there? Miranda’s thoughts bounced from one topic to another as she helped remove the bags.

Nathan pulled out yet another bag and stopped moving so quickly, it made Miranda’s chest erupt with pain. “What?” she asked, her voice broken. “What do you see?”

“A…a hand. A hand and a watch.”

Miranda was horrified. The way he spoke created images of dismemberments and she refused to believe that. She pushed him out of the way and leaned over the edge. It was Andrea’s hand. She knew it because she had seen Andrea show off the watch her father gave her for her twenty-fifth birthday. Then she saw the hand tremble and relief washed through her.

“She’s moving. Hurry up with the rest of the bags.” Miranda knew she would be in the way when the men tossed garbage left and right. Just as they revealed Andrea’s shoulder and part of her abdomen, several police officers hurried into the alley, followed by Emily.

“She’s here, Em,” Serena said, her tears flowing freely. “She’s in the dumpster.”

“Oh, God. Is…is she...is she?” Emily paled and looked like she was going to throw up or faint for a moment. Serena put an arm around her shoulders.

“She moved just now and she’s made more sounds.”

The police officers took over and soon they had almost emptied the dumpster. Miranda had climbed up on the crate again, clinging to the cold metal. What she saw, she knew the sight would be with her for the rest of her life. Bruised, dirty, and so pale she looked transparent, Andrea lay stretched out along the inner wall of the dumpster. At first her eyes were closed and Miranda tried to ascertain if she was unconscious. But then Andrea opened her eyes and looked straight up at her.

“Andrea. I’m…we’re here. You’re safe. We’ll get out and take you to the hospital.” Miranda wondered how she could sound so calm and together when her heart was in pieces at the sight of what someone had done to the woman she adored.

“Miranda. Miranda. Miranda…” Andrea said, her voice raspy and broken. “You…you came.”

“Of course I did.” Miranda tried to smile, but knew she failed miserably. She wanted to climb into the dumpster, but had to settle for watching as the paramedics entered it to take care of Andrea. At one point, one of them leaned over Andrea and blocked Miranda’s view. Andrea’s anguished scream wrung Miranda’s stomach as if a cold hand reached inside her.

“You’ll be okay, honey,” the paramedic said, trying to calm her.

“Miranda!” The wailing grew in intensity. “Don’t go, Miranda!”

“Who’s Miranda? Your friend? I’m sure we can call her—“

“It’s me. Move out of the way so she can see me,” Miranda growled. When he didn’t move fast enough, she lowered her voice half an octave. “Now.”

As soon as the man scooted to the side, Andrea locked her red, swollen eyes on Miranda and calmed down. The paramedics skillfully place Andrea on a spine board stretcher with her neck and spine immobilized. They tucked warm blankets around her and set an IV to begin rehydrating her. Together with the police they moved her carefully out of the dumpster where Miranda finally could get close to her.

“Andrea.” She cupped Andrea’s cold cheek.

“D-don’t touch me,” Andrea whispered, shattering another piece of Miranda’s heart. “I’m filthy. And I…I…” She started weeping soundlessly.

Tenderly, Miranda didn’t let go. “Shh. You’re going to be fine.”

“I tried not to. So hard. I ruined the skirt. The C-Calvin Klein skirt. I had to pee and I couldn’t wait, but I tried and—” Andrea’s voice rose and she struggled against the neck brace.

“Hold still, Andrea. Please. I don’t care about the clothes. We found you in time and that’s all that matters. Roy will drive us to the hospital and—“

“No!” Still upset and looking panic stricken, Andrea gasped for air. “Don’t leave me. I don’t know what happened to me, but you can’t leave me. Please, Miranda.”

Stunned that it was her Andrea wanted to stay close to, Miranda merely nodded. Not considering for a minute how it may seem to the people around them, she bent and kissed Andrea’s forehead. “I’ll go with you in the ambulance, all right? Just try to lie still and not worsen any potential injuries. Promise me.”

“Oh. Okay.” Still trembling hard, Andrea clearly fought to remain still.

The paramedics carried her from the narrow alley to the ambulance. Miranda walked close to the stretcher, holding Andrea’s hand. Her cell phone rang as they climbed into the ambulance and noticing that Emily had added the Sachs’s to her contacts, she answered as she sat down next to Andrea.

“Miranda?” Louise said, speaking rapidly. “We’re at the airport and about to board. Thank you for upgrading out tickets—“

“Louise. I was just about to call you. We found Andrea.”

A stunned silence and then a muted sob came through the cell phone. “What?” Louise whispered and Miranda could hear Richard gasping in the background.

“She’s alive and communicating.” Miranda looked over at the pale young woman. “Want to say hello to your mother, Andrea?”

“Yes,” Andrea said huskily. Miranda held the phone to her ear. “Mom? Oh, mom…I don’t remember. Yes. You are?” Andrea drew a trembling breath. “Miranda did. She’s here. She did? Good. Mm. Hi Dad. N-no, don’t cry, Dad. I’m all right. Sore. Dirty. I’ll be fine.” Paling considerably, Andrea sent a pleading look in Miranda’s direction.

Pulling the cell back, Miranda spoke quickly. “It’s Miranda again. Andrea’s really tired and we should be at the hospital very shortly. One of Runway’s drivers will be at the airport to pick you up when you arrive. He will take you directly to the hospital. I won’t leave Andrea’s side until you get there.”

“Miranda, you are a marvel,” Louise said. “How can we ever repay you?”

“No need for that. The most important thing is Andrea’s recuperation. Have a safe flight, both of you.” Miranda fingers trembled as she disconnected the call. About the same time, they arrived at the hospital ambulance bay.

 

**XXXXX**

 

Andy wasn’t sure how many times the hospital wheeled her gurney back and forth between different rooms and stations in the ER. What she did notice, which boggled her mind, was how Miranda always was somewhere within sight—or reach.

She doubted she would ever forget the moment Nigel, Doug, and some vaguely familiar guy had pulled what turned out to be massive garbage bags from her and she saw Miranda staring down at her. Looking haggard and beautiful at the same time, Miranda had looked at her with shiny eyes while gripping the edge of the dumpster with whitening fingertips.

Andy had been sure she was hallucinating, but Miranda had really been there in person, looking for her. Never in a million years would Andy ever have thought it possible her boss cared enough to engage herself personally. In fact, Andy wondered if she might have a concussion since she had begun to read other emotions in Miranda’s eyes and also in her actions. Miranda taken Andy’s hands several times, squeezing reassuringly. The gentle kiss on Andy’s forehead before they loaded her onto the ambulance had taken her breath away. She could still feel the imprint of Miranda soft lips as if the tender touch was tattooed on her skin.

A burly, middle aged man dressed in aqua scrubs came up to her where she lay on the gurney, studying what had to be her medical chart. Andy tried to focus on him and read his name tag, but her heartbeat picked up speed and she began trembling again.

“Andrea?” Miranda was at her side. “What’s wrong?”

“I want to go home,” Andy whispered. “I don’t want to be here.” Suddenly she didn’t feel safe.

“Doctor…Leighton.” Miranda pivoted toward the man. “Can you tell us anything yet? You’ve tormented her with enough tests by now, don’t you agree?”

Doctor Leighton flinched at Miranda’s lethal tone, clearly not used to being on the receiving end of something like that in his own kingdom. Andy was torn between giggling hysterically and wailing at the fact she was still strapped into whatever contraption they had her immobilized in. Something told her it was not safe to be tied up like this. What if she had to run? What if the people responsible for placing her in that…that _thing_...a dumpster…came here? Who had done this to her? And why? Why couldn’t she remember anything? What had they done to her to that screwed up her memory? Every time she tried to force her brain to remember what had happened before the assault, it created such pain in her temples she had to stop.

Another thought hit and bile rose in her throat. What if the truth was so ugly she didn’t want to know? Suddenly she wanted Miranda to stop asking questions and merely have Roy drive her back to her tiny studio apartment. There she would lock all three locks on her door, shower for an eternity, and hide in her bedroom—forever if she had to. Andy extended her hand and tugged at Miranda’s coat sleeve.

“Andrea?” Miranda wheeled and bent over her, gazing down into her eyes. “What is it?”

“Home.” Pleading now with every ounce of her soul, Andy felt tears running down her temples and into her hair. “Home, please, Miranda.”

That’s when Miranda said the life altering word Andy never even dared to dream of. “Don’t worry. As soon as they clear you, I’m taking you home with me, darling.”

* * *

**Continued in part 6**


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My apologize for taking a bit long than planned to post this part of the story. Nonetheless, I hope you will enjoy it. :)

* * *

Miranda couldn’t be more relieved unless it would have been one of her girls just having survived an assault. The intensity with which she hovered around Andrea would have baffled her if she had given herself time to consider the implications behind it. She was in warrior mode and there were no maternal feelings behind it.

“Ms. Sachs? Ah, good, you’re awake.” The doctor appeared again, and once more, Andrea flinched and sent a panicked look toward Miranda. “We have the results of your scans and bloodwork. You have a minor concussion and quite a few bruises. I think the ordeal of being attacked explains your partial amnesia rather than the blow to your head.”

“Can I take her home?” Miranda asked, trying her best to not sound impatient. She could see on the doctor’s exasperated expression she wasn’t succeeding very well.

“We want to keep someone with a concussion for a twenty-four hour observation—“

“No. Please. I want to go home. I’ll ask one of my friends to stay over. Just—no hospital. I can’t deal with that right now. Please, please.”

“Andrea’s parents are on their way to New York, flying in from Cincinnati. There will be no shortage of people wanting to watch over her. If you have your nurses give us instructions what to be mindful off—I think Andrea’s better off in a home environment.” Miranda moved closer to Andrea.”

“As we have done all the necessary tests, including the rape kit, I don’t see why not as your concussion is mild. The police are eager to speak to you. Do you feel up to it?”

“No, but let them in.” Andrea shuddered and Miranda moved closer and placed a hand on her shoulder.

“Enough of this. Expedite the paperwork please. Andrea is fully covered by her employer, Elias-Clarke. Once she has given her statement to the police, we want to leave.”

“Very well, Ms. Priestly.” The doctor made a faint grimace that didn’t escape Miranda. She couldn’t care less. “I’ll let the police know you’re ready for them.” He left and looked quite relieved doing so.

Detective Gilmore and a uniformed officer entered the room. She nodded toward Miranda, but then focused entirely on Andrea.

“Hi there. You look a lot better. Doc says you’re up for some questions. It’s important we hear everything you remember so we can catch the people involved. We have one young man in custody already. He’s the one driving the car. He also was in possession of your phone and wallet, plus a set of keys that we think might be yours. Can you tell me what kind of key chain you use?”

“A Christian Louboutin tan pump with a red sole.” Andrea spoke so quietly, Miranda stepped closer to her. She still kept her hand on Andrea’s shoulder and was not about to let go unless Andrea insisted.

“Then those are your keys. Once our crime lab’s done with your possessions, you’ll get them back.” Detective Gilmore made a note in her pad. “Take me through your day so far—as much as you remember of it, please.”

Andrea cast a glance at Miranda.

“Perhaps it’s better if Ms. Priestly waits in the hallway,” the uniformed officer suggested, looking disdainfully at Miranda.

“No!” Andrea raised her voice. She virtually slapped her hand over the one Miranda kept on her shoulder, as if to keep it in place. “I don’t want her to go. She has to…to stay.” She shot Miranda another look. “Please?”

“I’m not going anywhere.” Miranda’s low growl actually made the officer take half a step back.

“Go on, Andrea,” Detective Gilmore said.

Andrea looked ill at ease for a moment. “Please. Call me Andy.” She squeezed Miranda’s hand lightly.

“Andy. How did your day start?”

“As always. Up around six am, getting a bagel on my way to the subway. Arrived at Runway at seven. Performed the usual tasks, getting Miranda’s itinerary, arranging her magazines and papers, grabbing some Pellegrino, and double checking her first appointments.” Andrea drew a trembling breath. “Once Roy, Miranda’s chauffeur calls us, I do the first coffee-run of the day.”

“Excuse me? Coffee-run?” Gilmore blinked as she glanced up from her notes.

“Starbucks with Miranda’s standing order. Then I worked on some of the plans for a shoot where we needed to switch locale. Then it was time for me to do the first run to collect scarfs and other garments. Today I was going to, oh, wait…Not Calvin Klein, right?” She turned to Miranda, now even paler. “Oh, damn. I can’t remember who I went to after I fetched the scarves. I remember chatting with a new driver, a young guy who was kind of funny, but—“

“That would be Nathan West?” the uniformed officer interrupted, which rendered him an annoyed glance from his superior officer.

Miranda knew she would have fired him on the spot if he worked for her.

“I don’t know his name. That’s strange. I usually take the time to memories most names of the people I work with. He’s tall and gangly. Good looking.” Andrea shrugged. She was beginning to tilt where she sat on the edge of the gurney, her legs dangling back and forth. Miranda slid her arm around Andrea’s shoulders to make sure she didn’t slide off it.

“What is the very last you remember? Anything might be helpful, Andy.” Gilmore softened her voice. Perhaps she too had seen Andrea go weaker.

“I’m in the car—no, I’m getting out of the car. There’s a traffic jam. I walk toward—toward…” She hesitated, frowning as she clearly tried to work through the fleeting memories. “I’m walking toward DKNY! Yes, DKNY. That’s it. I’m just a block away and I can see the sign when—wait…when I run into, ehm, someone. They carry something on a tray, or in a kind of shallow wooden crate, and it smells bad. Or, not nice anyway. I say ‘sorry’ and when I turn to make sure they’re all right…It’s a tall person, a man, with a full beard. And then he’s gone and there’s an arm around my waist and it pulls me back, far back, and it’s dark. So dark…and then, and then…” Tears start streaming down her face and her eyes are darting back and forth between Miranda and the Gilmore. “I’m sorry. I can’t remember anything else. I woke up in the dumpster—“

“We know that,” the officer sighed. “We need you to tell us things we _don’t_ know. Try to figure out who it was that pulled you off the sidewalk and into the alley. Young guy? Old guy? And what’s with the guy with the beard—“

“Wait a minute.” Miranda squared her shoulders and drilled her eyes into the man who clearly showed no consideration toward Andrea who was now shaking visibly. “Andrea has answered enough questions. I’m taking her home now and when you need to talk to her, you go via my office where Emily or Serena will forward your request.”

“But—“

“Harrison. Enough. Andy is about to topple over from sheer fatigue. We can come and talk to her tomorrow.” Detective Gilmore glared at her subordinate. Her voice softened as she turned to Andrea. “Thank you for talking to us, Andy. I’ll call the office when we know something or if we have more questions. Perhaps we’ll send a sketch artist tomorrow and arrange for a lineup when you’re well enough to participate. We can even do that with photos, if you’re still not well enough to come down to the station.”

“Thank you,” Andrea whispered and Miranda’s heart clenched at the young woman’s attempt at being polite and appreciative. She was too sweet, too ready to please sometimes.

Gilmore and Harrison left and Andrea sagged sideways as if her last strength had left her. Catching her, Miranda sat on the gurney, holding Andrea closer to her.

“I smell awful. I’m so d-dirty. So cold.” Andrea tried to pull back, pushing at Miranda’s arms. “Oh, God. You’re jacket. It’s ruined.”

“So what? I don’t care. I have you back and now we’re going home. Your parents are on their way and in fact, they’re plan is about to land any moment. Just let us help you and we’ll figure everything out.”

“I want to go home, but—I need to call my landlord. The police have my keys…”

“You don’t need them. You’re coming home to the townhouse with me.” Miranda spoke firmly, hoping this would get through to Andrea who now looked so confused, it worried her.

“Your townhouse? But, why would I go there?” Raising her gaze to meet Miranda’s, Andrea sucked in her lower lip between her teeth before letting it go to ask another question. “Maybe I can stay with Doug?”

“No. He doesn’t have the means to take care of you the way I can.” Miranda was not about to take no for an answer. “He lives in a small apartment that he shares with a friend from work. No guestroom.”

“How can you possibly know this?” Andrea gaped.

“We talked earlier. They all want to care for you. Emily, Serena, Nigel, Douglas, Roy…even Nathan.”

“Who?” Andrea blinked and looked confused.

“Your driver from this morning. He is quite the character, but very loyal and ready to help when needed.” Miranda sighed. “Come home with me. I will have a nurse to stay with you when I can’t be there.”

“This is crazy, but I’m too sore to argue. Truly.” Andrea leaned her head into her hand. “I can’t go outside in this thing though.” She fingered the hospital gown.

“Of course not. Emily has brought you a set of underwear and what Serena calls comfort clothes.” Miranda pointed to a bag sitting by the foot of the gurney. “Can you manage or…?”

“I can manage,” Andrea said quickly. “Just—just don’t go. Please. I can’t be alone.”

“I wasn’t planning to.” Miranda felt silly, but turned her back to give Andrea some privacy. She was used to being in the presence of semi-nude, or even fully-nude women during fashion shows, or at shoots, but Andrea was not one of the jaded models who quickly grew accustomed to people regarding them as objects to hang clothes on. It was the way the fashion business worked.

Miranda pulled out her phone and texted Roy. The rest of Andrea’s friends were outside, but Roy was waiting with the towncar.

“These are soft. Thank you.” Andrea spoke from behind, her voice wobbly. “Tell Emily thank you. It was a good choice. You can turn around. I’m decent.”

Of course she was. The most decent woman ever to walk the halls of Runway in Miranda’s opinion. Miranda pivoted and had to steel herself so she wouldn’t gasp out loud. Somehow seeing Andrea’s bruises when she was dressed in the expensive leisure suit, made them starker and more shocking. “Ready to go?”

“Yes. Please.”

 “As this is a hospital, you will have to endure being wheeled out in a wheelchair. We’re going to the ground floor where Roy is waiting for us by the elevators.” Miranda pressed the button and requested a wheelchair from the nurse that entered the room.

“I’ll be right back. Doctor Leighton left a prescription and also some notes for you to bring to your family doctor, Ms. Sachs.”

“Oh. Okay. Thanks.” Andrea began tilting a little where she sat on the gurney and Miranda quickly stepped up to her and placed her arm around her shoulders.

 

**XXXXX**

 

Andy inhaled the signature scent that was uniquely Miranda’s. Vanilla, bergamot, musk, a hint of jasmine and sandalwood. Mixed with Miranda’s chemistry made it irresistible and Andy barely stopped herself in time as all she wanted was to hide her face against Miranda’s neck.

The door opened, but instead of the nurse, it was Emily and Serena. Doug entered hesitatingly behind them.

“Don’t fall off the gurney. Miranda squeezed her gently. "They’ll never let me whisk you out of here today if you do that.” 

“She’s really going home today?” Serena looked alarmed. “That can’t be right?”

“She’s not going back to her apartment, of course,” Miranda said, sounding exasperated. “I’m taking her to the townhouse where I will employ a nurse from tomorrow and onward until Andrea has recuperated. Her parents are on their way and will stay at a hotel close by. Make arrangements, Emily.”

"Yes, Miranda," Emily said, her eyes huge, probably from seeing Andy curled up against Miranda.

“She hates hospitals,” Doug said quietly. “Ever since that time when her appendix burst, she really freaks out even just thinking about it.”

“Doug, nobody wants to hear that story,” Andy said huskily. She knew for a fact Miranda would find it boring and pointless.

“I will want to hear about that at one point. Soon,” Miranda said, contradicting Andy’s inner musings right away. “Ah, here’s the nurse now. Let’s go.”

“I think it is wise for you to leave via the garage,” the nurse said. “I hear the press is gathered outside. Apparently the fact that Ms. Sachs works for you have sent the media into a tailspin.” She shook her head.

“Wonderful,” Miranda muttered and let go of her shoulders as the nurse helped Andy into the wheelchair.

The short walk to the elevators and even shorter ride to the underground garage was long enough for Andy to nod off. Next time she opened her eyes, Roy was patting her shoulder.

“Hi, Andy,” he said, sounding quite choked up. “Let me help you into the backseat, all right.”

“I’ll help from this side,” Doug said. Between the two men, Andy made it safely into the car and Miranda entered after her.

“How will the rest of them get away from the press?” Andy asked, her voice barely more than a whisper.

“Nathan will drive them to where they need to go. You’ll see them tomorrow. I told them they could stop by after work if they promise not to tire you out.”

“Okay. Thanks.” Andy closed her eyes and felt the car begin to move. The scent of the expensive interior of the Mercedes-Benz was so familiar; she felt she should hold on to her regular notepad and pen. It was also so comforting to know Roy and Miranda were there. It made it all feel—normal. She closed her eyes and tipped her head back. Feeling herself start to slide toward Miranda, she jerked awake and righted herself.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Andrea. Come here. Just relax.” Miranda guided her to lie down on the seat, her head on Miranda’s lap.

Andy trembled and tried to wrap her brain around the fact that Miranda allowed her to rest on her lap. Against that beautiful pencil skirt that Andy had admired—or rather, she had admired Miranda’s ass and legs as her boss wore the skirt. Feeling silly and indeed ridiculous, Andy closed her eyes hard.

A gentle hand began combing through her hair. It was so unexpected and weird, on top of everything else, as Andy knew she smelled of the garbage in the dumpster. Still, Miranda soothingly caressed her mussed tresses of long hair, over and over.

And again, Andy fell asleep.

* * *

**Continued in part 7**


	7. Chapter 7

 

Miranda stood in the doorway of the bathroom belonging to the guestroom that was located across the hallway from her bedroom. Andrea leaned back in the bathtub, holding a cup of chicken soup that Hannah, Miranda’s housekeeper had made.

“Thank you,” Andrea said, her voice low and hoarse. “I’m not sure why I’m here. Not really. But thank you anyway.”

“You’re here because it is the best thing for you at the moment. By the way,” Miranda said, squaring her shoulders. “The driver called Emily only moments ago. He located your parents and they are on their way from La Guardia as we speak.”

A gentle smile appeared on Andrea’s pale lips, followed by a worried frown.

“What’s wrong?” Miranda stepped over the threshold and walked up to the tub. She could hear the distant voices of Emily, Serena, Doug, and Nigel from downstairs. They were all traumatized and Miranda found she couldn’t ask them to leave before they were ready. All this had created a mess at Runway of course, but for some reason Miranda didn’t—couldn’t—care.

“No-nothing. I’m glad mom and dad are on their way. Haven’t seen them in a long while.” Andrea’s hands shook so badly, Miranda had to rescue the mug. She placed it on the vanity and carefully sat down on the side of the tub. She took Andrea’s right hand in hers.

“You’ve gone through something unimaginably horrible today, Andrea. Of course something is wrong. I don’t want you to feel you have to put up a brave face or be my ever efficient second assistant in this moment. What I want is for you to know you’re safe, cared for, and that nobody can get to you here. Nobody. If you listen, you can hear your friends talking downstairs. They’re having pizza in my kitchen.” Miranda saw a faint smile appear on Andrea’s lips. “I’d offer you a slice, but the doctor said you need comfort food. Perhaps tomorrow.”

“Mac and cheese.” Andrea whispered and squeezed Miranda’s hand. “Tons of carbs.”

“Shocking.” Miranda lifted Andrea’s hand to her face and kissed the inside of her wrist.

“Oh…” Andrea went from chalk white to pink in a few moments.

Miranda was stunned at her own actions. What possessed her? Then again, watching Andrea’s eyes grew wide with amazement was quite rewarding. Unable to resist, she repeated the kiss, this time prolonging it and inhaling the sweet scent of the bath salt.

“Miranda?” Andrea’s curled fingers made a small caressing motion against Miranda’s cheek. “I need to wash my hair. Perhaps Serena…?”

“No. I’ll do it.” Miranda didn’t want Serena to join them. Not unless it became necessary. For now, Miranda accepted she was selfish enough to have Andrea to herself. “Which shampoo would you prefer?” She pointed to a row of high-end shampoo bottles sitting in an indentation in the tiled wall.

“Oh. I—I don’t care. As long as it smells nice.” Andrea sounded so wary, Miranda wanted to kick herself for ever thinking of asking her in the first place. Why would a woman who almost died care about shampoos?

“Very well. The one with argan oil will do nicely with your hair. Dip it completely.” Miranda kicked off her Prada pumps and placed a rolled up towel on the floor next to the tub. She knelt on the towel and retrieved the bottle. Andrea had scooted down and dipped all of her hair in the water.

“I can’t wait to get rid of the last smell of the dumpster,” Andrea whispered.

“I won’t argue with you on that matter,” Miranda said and poured a generous amount of shampoo in her left hand and slid it against Andrea’s long, brown hair. Another handful went to the lengths of the hair, and then she began working it into the silky tresses. “This smells wonderful. It will do the job.”

“Your hands feel wonderful.” Andrea’s eyes snapped open. “I mean…I mean…”

“Shh. Don’t worry. You can say anything you want. We’re not at Runway now. You’re not here in the capacity of my assistant.”

“Then in what capacity _am_ I here?” Andrea looked over at Miranda with shiny, dark amber eyes.

“As Andrea Sachs. Someone I have come to care a great deal for. I wasn’t quite sure just how much until I feared we might never know what happened to you.” Miranda wasn’t certain telling Andrea this much was the best course of action, but the vulnerability in her eyes made Miranda want to reassure her. She longed to see the exuberant light appear in Andrea’s entire demeanor again. If that mean Miranda had to go out on a limb, so be it.

“I can’t help but feel I’m sort of…almost trespassing. Well, not trespassing perhaps…but that I don’t truly belong. Unhinged, for sure.”

“Give it time. You can’t be on your own until you feel your old self again, or as close to it as humanly possible. If you allow it, I will have Emily make an appointment with a therapist.”

Andrea’s eyes grew huge where she looked up at Miranda. “Therapist?” she murmured.

“Yes. You’re going to need professional help. Anyone who’s been through what you have today needs someone to talk to who can be of objective assistance. I’m far too involved to be that person.” Again, unfiltered words slipped over Miranda’s lips. She busied herself with the shower and tipped Andrea’s head back as she started to rinse off the shampoo. Since she didn’t want Andrea to sit in the tub too long, Miranda quickly applied conditioner and forwent a second shampooing session. Andrea sat very still, only moving her head obediently this way or that according to Miranda’s gentle nudges.

“All rinsed off. I’ll leave you to it for a bit so you can wash the rest of your bo—uhm—yourself.” About to stand, Miranda felt Andrea grab her left wrist.

“Don’t leave. Please. I’ll be quick.” Andrea reached for some body soap and Miranda stood and turned her back. One thing to help Andrea into the tub, another thing to gawk at her right now as she stood up in the tub. She heard water cascade from the large showerhead in the ceiling above the tub. Andrea gasped and all of Miranda’s intentions flew out the door. Fearful Andrea might have slipped Miranda pivoted and took a step back toward the tub.

“Are you all right?” Miranda cupped Andrea’s elbows.

“The water was a bit cool at first. And you’re getting all wet. I mean your blouse. Of course.” Andrea was now crimson and looked as if she wanted to hide below the surface of the bath water.

“Never mind my blouse. Clean up and I’ll take the robe off the heater.” Miranda resolutely stepped over the large heated towel rack. As per usual, her house keeper had put one of Miranda’s soft, terrycloth robes there. Warm and fuzzy, it would perfect to warm Andrea. Miranda also retrieved a hair towel from a cabinet, realizing that the long, wet tresses would chill through any fabric after a while. On second thought, perhaps she should blow dry Andrea’s hair?

“I’m done,” Andrea said quietly behind Miranda and her voice made it obvious that her teeth was about to clatter soon unless Miranda acted swiftly. She dressed the robe around Andrea’s naked body, only catching a glimpse of her curvy body. Chastising herself for even thinking of Andrea in that way right now, Miranda tied the belt with quick fingers. She wrapped Andrea’s hair in the towel and had her sit on the white leather stool. She squeezed the excess water from Andrea’s long hair with the hair towel. It quickly became saturated and she pulled a second one from the pile. This one managed to soak up enough moisture for Miranda to blow dry Andrea’s hair.

She took her detangling hairbrush from its drawer and raised it to begin brushing the long tresses running down Andrea’s back. Andrea suddenly flinched, raised her hands in defense and shrieked, “No! Stop, stop!”

Miranda jerked and dropped the brush. Staring aghast at the shaking, sobbing woman before her, she then quickly wrapped her arms around her, holding her close. Andrea fought her weekly at first, twisting and turning in her embrace.

“Andrea. It’s me. It’s Miranda. Listen to my voice. It’s me. You’re safe here with me. I promise nothing is going to happen to you.”

“M-Miranda…he-he had a pipe. A fucking pipe! And he p-pushed it under my chin, against my ne-neck.” Andrea’s voice was choppy and tear-filled, but also furious.

“You remember?” Miranda held on to Andrea, her heart racing as she hugged her closer.

“I can see his face…and another face. Younger. But the man with the pipe…he—he hurt me.” Her hands balled into fists, Andrea suddenly stood, almost toppling Miranda, but she kept her grip around the shaking young woman.

“All right. All right. Sit down again, please. You’re not very steady on your feet, darling.”

Perhaps it was the last unedited word that made Andrea go still. Miranda wasn’t sure. What was more, she had no idea why she’d call Andrea darling. Or at least that’s what she tried to tell herself. Andrea was her second assistant and that was it. Wasn’t it? Her fluttering heart insisted there was more to it and the way she had come close to ogling the naked girl just before was hard to disregard.

“Is everything all right?” Serena’s voice from outside the door made them both jump.

“Come in, Serena. I think we need assistance.” Miranda wasn’t sure she’d be able to get Andrea into bed on her own.

“The driver is pulling up with Andy’s parents.” Serena strode up to them, her eyes a tad wide, no doubt at the sight of Miranda holding Andrea.

“Then by all means, she needs to be relaxed in bed so they can be comfortable together. Come on, Andrea. We’ll tend to your hair later.” Miranda wrapped a dry towel around Andrea’s head and then Serena assisted in walking the wobbly girl to the guest bed.

As they tucked Andrea in, bathrobe and all, Miranda pressed the button on the remote to elevate the top of the bed so she could sit comfortably against the multitude of pillows. Serena was busy taking care of Andrea’s discarded clothes when she spoke.

“Darling,” Andrea said with a slurry voice, looking up at Miranda.

“Andrea?” Miranda’s cheeks grew hot as she could see Serena stop moving in bathroom, clearly listening.

“You called me ‘darling’, Miranda.” Andrea reached out her hand to Miranda. “Why?”

_God almighty._ “Because I was worried,” Miranda said in a low voice and took Andrea’s hand, still knowing full well that Serena heard everything.

“Okay.” Andrea looked mystified, but clung to Miranda’s hand.

There was soft padding coming from the hallway. “I think I hear your parents coming up the stairs,” Miranda said.

“Good.”

Miranda tried to free herself from Andrea’s hand, but she looked so panicky and clung to her, Miranda relented.

“Andy!” A brown haired woman darted into the room, staring at Andrea. “Oh, honey. Thank God they found you.” Andrea’s mother hurried to her daughter, sat down on the side of the bed and hugged her. Andrea still clung to Miranda’s hand while wrapping the other around her mother.

“I’m okay, mom. I’m okay now.” Andrea sobbed. “Miranda—Miranda was there when they found me.”

Andrea’s mother looked up at Miranda who calmly held Andrea’s right hand. “We can never thank you enough, Miranda,” she whispered huskily.

“I’m just grateful the right people were present and thinking outside the box,” Miranda said. “I’ll leave you and your husband to—“

“No!” Andrea’s grip became painfully hard around Miranda’s hand. “Please, don’t go.” Her eyes grew wide. “Please.”

“Andy. We’re here now,” Andrea’s father said, entering fully into the room after hovering over by the door way. He was visibly shaken, but rounded Miranda and reached for Andrea’s hand.

Slowly Andrea let go of Miranda’s hand and let her father take it. She was completely unprepared how losing physical touch with Andrea would feel. Setting her jaw, she nodded politely toward the Sachs’. “I’ll let you spend time with Andrea. The doctor did say she needs a lot of rest. I’ll have my housekeeper bring you something to eat. I’m sure you’re hungry after your flight.”

Andrea’s father took his eyes off his daughter and sent Miranda a grateful glance. “I second what my wife just said. We cannot express our gratitude enough. You’re going above and beyond for our daughter.”

“She deserves it.” Miranda could hardly get the words out. “I’ll be downstairs in the den if you need to talk to me. Let us know when you need to go to your hotel and I’ll come and sit with Andrea. She won’t be alone tonight.”

“Oh, I can sit with her…” Andrea’s mother objected, but Andrea shook her head on the pillow.

“Mom. You’re not well yourself. Have a good night’s sleep at the hotel and we can hang more tomorrow. I can even go back to my apart—“

“No.” Miranda pivoted at the door. “You are staying here until you are fit enough to return to work. It doesn’t matter if it’s about days, or weeks, until you’re up for it. You will not stay alone in that area.” She knew her words must seem very odd to Andrea’s parents, but the fact was Miranda spotted something close to gratitude in both her parents’ faces.

“Okay. All right.” Andrea sank back against the pillow. “You’re the boss.”

Miranda had to smile despite everything. “I am.” Leaving the Sachs family to reassure each other to their hearts’ content, she hid in her den with her laptop, catching up on work. Every now and then Nigel, Serena, or Emily would poke their heads in, not say anything, and just bring her a plate of fruit or some Pellegrino.

Miranda knew she was biding her time. Being honest with herself was something she aimed for, but knew also she was good at looking at her surroundings the way she wanted them to be at times. Now she was faking patience while she waited for Andrea’s parents to leave and her staff to go home. A nurse would be on call, using one of the guest rooms, but Miranda already knew she would be Andrea’s primary caregiver this first night. If anyone suggested she needed her sleep or to leave Andrea’s care to the professionals, they would run into trouble.

Tomorrow they would call the police so she could give a description officially of the two men she remembered. Until then, Andrea was hers.

* * *

 

Continued in part 8


End file.
